Thresh
by taylor519
Summary: A look at Thresh and Rue, the legendary district eleven tributes, before the end of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, they belong to Suzanne Collins._

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><p><span>Thresh<span>

His heart thudded in his chest as the seconds counted down. Everything seemed too clear to him. Every sound was heard, every movement seen. He could hear the light blowing of the wind, the heavy breathing of those around him, and of course, his own blood thudding through his veins. He would not let his mind wander, he refused to be afraid. He focused.

_Forty seconds_.

His eyes scanned through the options. The best materials were strategically placed further away from the tributes. Large knives and swords, as well as survival kits. The kits included matches, food and various other supplies. He placed all his attention on them, planning his actions. Not too close to the Cornucopia, but close enough to be of decent value he spotted his material targets. A large black bag that appeared promising, and near it a machete roped together with a few other blades. Already he considered it his.

_Thirty seconds_.

A small knife, no bigger than his hand, sat on top of a small bag closer to him. He couldn't leave here with just that, though. But the knife could be of use to him. He would pick it up on his way to the other supplies, to use against the others.

_Twenty seconds_.

The others. He resisted the urge to look around himself. They would all be dead soon. The people he may have to kill, the people he would kill, to win. Except her. He wasn't sure if he could kill her. She was too innocent, too sweet. To take her life was unimaginable to him. Yet he might have to.

_Ten seconds_.

He couldn't help glancing up at her, just once. Her tiny figure crouched and ready on her platform. He expected her to look terrified, or at least unnerved. But she wasn't, and made him all the more uneasy at her presence there. She looked confident and ready, as if it were only a race she were about to run, not a fight to the death. Even if she wasn't scared, he was scared for her. She's too young to be here, it's not fair.

_Five seconds_.

He knew he had to stop worrying. She would be dead soon, there was not much he could do about it. But he could save himself. He could live and go back to their district to comfort her family. He could help take care of them for her.

The gong rang, and the games began. He had snatched the knife off the small bag quickly and already begun heading deeper into the chaos. Just as he approached his bag, one of the others jumped at him.

The boy from district four. One of the Careers. He's got a larger blade, and is better trained. But the boy is nowhere near his size. Never-the-less the boy shows no intimidation. Before either could blink four was waving his knife at him. He avoided it and countered with a swing of his own. The boy ducked under it and danced to the side, slicing at the larger man's arm. He managed to get him, but the cut was not deep and damage minimal. Thresh grew frustrated, to some extent, at trying to use the tiny blade in his hand, and instead took a swing at the boy with his fist. He made hard contact with his jaw and sent the boy to the ground.

At that moment he looked up, realizing nearly everyone else was in a similar situation.

He turned his attention back to the bag, grabbing it and throwing it over his shoulder. Just as he laid his hands on the weapons he heard the haggard breathing of the boy behind him, regaining his feet. Before he could take the time to regret it, he had grabbed hold of the weapons and spun. The end of the machete stabbed through the boy's gut, the other blades around it leaving smaller holes in his abdomen. He tugged the weapons back out and turned away, not watching the boy hit the ground, never to rise again.

He charged his way through to crowd, most the others engaged in their own battle. He could see the clearing he was headed to and was almost out of reach of the others when a girl blocked his path. She was practically snarling at him, her blue eyes dancing with the sort of animosity he could only imagine was insanity. How come he hadn't noticed her before? The boy had at least shown some control with his actions, some strategy. But she just ran at him, blade pointed and ready to stab him. Again, he didn't hesitate to plunge the machete into her before she did the same to him.

He couldn't turn away this time, though. And he had to watch her fall to the ground in the most ungraceful manner. He had to see the dark red puddle that started to form underneath her. Then he was running again. He ran even faster than he was before. He had to get away.

His feet carried him down the large hill, into the tall grass below. He could see over it, but it was large enough to slow him some. Yet he didn't stop, not until the last of the shrieks could barely be heard. The grass continued to get thicker, until he was chopping at it with his machete to get through.

When he finally felt he had gone far enough, he plopped himself down. He looked back the way he came and frowned at the clear path he had left. Anyone could find him. So he knew he couldn't rest there, not for long. He took the time to compose himself, catch his breath, and wipe off his blades. Then he tucked the blades into the backpack as well as he could, some still stood out the top, but kept one fair sized one in his belt.

He was on his feet again, and could see far to the right where the grass turned to forest. He knew he was much too large to hide in a tree, the way he hoped she would be. But he also knew if he had to run he wouldn't get far in the grass.

He picked his way through the grass, doing his best to leave as little a trail as possible. It was difficult, considering his size, but he did a decent job of it.

After what seemed like hours of cautiously making his way towards the forest, he could see he was close enough to set up camp. He patted out the grass near him so he could set out his things. The high grass really did offer good cover, and most the others were not nearly as tall as him, so they could not even see over it. He pulled the blades out of his bag then opened it up to go through the other things.

A tarp-large and water resistant. The inside material the same of that of his jacket. A generous amount of matches, a first aid kit-complete with an assortment of different ointments and medicines, and a white rope. Underneath those was a large bag of dried beef, a smaller bag of nuts and a bunch of cookies. Finally, a filled large water canteen with iodine to clean it.

He was pleased with what he got. He unravelled the weapons after packing the items back in, other than the tarp and water. There were many small throwing knives, of which he was grateful since he had decent aim. An assortment of medium sized weapons, some clearly made for sawing, one for skinning animals and a few others to use on the other tributes. Then there was the large machete. The other blades fit neatly into the bag if he organized them well, but he would have to keep the machete on hand.

Before settling in to sleep, he traced back his path, careful not to make it more recognizable. He was reassured that he found it difficult to follow his own path, but a little uneasy that he managed to at all. Once he had gone approximately fifteen feet from his resting place, he set up a small trap. It wasn't much. He stuck two knives in the ground, a good distance away from each other, and then tied the white rope to them. I wasn't an elaborate plan, but the trap was secure and the rope close to the ground so one would not notice it through the grass. The purpose was to trip anyone who came by so they would make enough noise to wake and prepare him. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He got back to his little circle of patted grass and took a drink of the water. Then he placed it in his bag and curled up, pulling the tarp over him. It wasn't dark yet, and it wasn't cold, but he was tired.

He closed his eyes and expected sleep to hit him immediately, considering the extreme fatigue he felt through his body. It didn't though, and behind his eyelids flashed images he didn't want to see. An image of the boy, the blade through his stomach, his eyes wide with pain and his mouth open. The crazed girl, face-down on the ground in a pool of her own blood. It made him want to be sick.

Canons began to shoot off. Eleven of them. Eleven were dead. For some reason, he knew one of them was Rue. The horrific scene from earlier played in his mind, and he knew there was no way she would have escaped it. His hands clutched angrily at the grass below him when he thought of it. Was it one of the older ones? Was it one of the males? Was it one of the Careers? For some reason, that made it worse. It could almost be justified if one of the small girls did it, because then she had a chance. But if someone close to his size took her life from her…

He couldn't think about it. He shook the images from his head. Instead he thought of home, and of getting back. It wasn't the best district, obviously, but it was better than this. Anything was better than this.

He thought of his mother, always looking over him and his younger sister, always watching over them. His old mother never complained a day in her life, never showed a hint of worry about anything and was always telling him to 'Be strong, be courageous, it's the only thing people can never take from you.'. His mother is a wise woman, and many of the things she said surprisingly make more sense now than ever.

Then to his displeasure, he thought of Rue's family, his neighbours. Their mother, a distant woman with hollow cheeks and an even hollower look in her eyes. She works hard everyday to keep her children eating, to keep them healthy. But she has no energy left to love them; she's too busy keeping them alive. Their father's the same, but with a little more life left in him. But their father works just as hard, struggling to support such a large family. Thresh pictures the littler ones, giggling when there is nothing to giggle about because they are too young to know. They are too young to realize how bad they have it. He envies them, the young children who know nothing of the true horrors of their world.

And finally he thinks of Rue. Little Rue, tiny and hard working and never stopping but always smiling. Always energetic, no matter how long she's worked. Rue, who always offers kind words, who always greets him and his family a good morning. Rue, whose songs the people of district eleven wait for to end their day of hard work. Always singing. He could swear when that little girl sings even her mother looks almost happy. Rue is the rock of her family, the one thing holding them down, keeping them together. He doesn't want to imagine what their life would be like without her. Surly all of district eleven will feel her loss.

He hears the anthem begin to play and looks up at the sky. It's almost peaceful, the vast darkness-almost. Pictures of the dead begin to show, and he almost doesn't watch. He doesn't want to see her up there, dead in the sky. But he knows he has to, he has to know it happened. They show the picture of the boy he killed, the Career. It's nice to see the boy's face without the shocked look he had before he died. He recognizes the girl, she's from district six, and in her picture looks calm and relaxed. She looks human. He wished she'd look crazy again, so that he wouldn't feel so guilty for killing her.

The picture of the boy from seven appears, and he just barely hears the rustling of the grass behind him. He's on his feet in an instant, crouching to stay below the top of the grass. He holds his breath and can hear the softest footsteps moving towards him. He takes a step back to prepare himself, machete in hand.

She stumbles into the opening suddenly and he nearly chops her to pieces right there. When he realizes it's Rue he freezes. So does she, but for an entirely different reason. She stands looking up at him standing, machete raised, not blinking, not moving. Surely he won't kill her, will he? She isn't too sure. So she remains still and silent.

When the blue screen in the sky turns off and the glint of blue is removed from the area, he breaks out of his shock. Overwhelmed with relief at her living and glad she's not someone coming to kill him. He bands down and engulfs her in a warm hug, the kind his mother always used to give him when he was little and scared.

She tenses at first, startled by the sudden contact. But when she realizes he has no intention of hurting her, she relaxes.

"Thresh." She breaths, clearly relived to have a sort of friend around.

"Rue." He sets her down, but doesn't take his eyes off her. "You're alive." Then, he did something he rarely does, particularly as of late. He smiled.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So this is my first Hunger Games story, actually it's the first story I've written outside of my Outsider's fandom. I hope I did an alright job, please review and let me know! It's not going to be long, only a few more chapters, it's just a short story. But I'll be updating soon! Thank you to marianasgirl for betaing for me, it's much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games._

They sit on the grass together, talking, planning. He invites her to stay with him, and to his surprise she hesitates.

"We'll make an alliance. We both know the Careers will have grouped together by now. And we can use each other to survive this." He knows why he's trying so hard to convince her to stay. He has to protect her. He can't just watch her wander off on her own and get killed.

She's sizing him up. She knows him, she considers him a friend of sorts back home. She has played games as a child with his younger brother, and his mother has watched her siblings while she and her mother worked. They travelled here together, worked together.

But they are here now, and she knows one of them will have to die for the other to live. It would be so easy for him to kill her.

"Our alliance can't last." She points out.

He realizes what he's thinking then, why she's hesitant. Of course it can't last. But he's proud of her cleverness.

"I know. But for now we can work together. Until the there are less of the others."

She still doesn't answer, looking at him with guarded eyes. She's tense.

He knows she's about to say no, he knows she doesn't trust him enough. And why would she? He doesn't say much. Since he was picked at the Reaping he had been working the silent, intimidating angle on the audience and other tributes. And apparently it has worked. He doesn't think hes said this much to a person since the Reaping. Even his mentor thinks he's always stony and silent. The more his mentor believes, the more the sponsors will believe, after all.

But he knows he has to break his persona, if he's going to make her stay.

"Rue." Using her name makes it more personal, and she knows he's about to say something important. "Stay here, with me. Don't go back out there. Don't get killed." He pauses, the words sound wrong coming out of his mouth. Such a sentimental conversation in his deep, strong voice. He's never been one for touchy, feely subjects. He's unlike the rest of his family that way. But this is different. This is necessary.

"I can't protect you when you're out there."

He wishes he didn't have to admit it. He wishes she could have just known, but it had to be said.

"Okay. I'll take first watch then." She agrees.

He's glad she didn't pry on such an obviously uncomfortable subject for him. He wouldn't have been able to explain it if she asked. It's not just that she's so young, so unfairly thrown into this mess. She's home, she is District 11. It's not just him, but nearly every person in the district who, in some sense, sees her as a little sister. He has the need to protect her. Not just for himself, but for his district. They would be proud of him, if they could see him.

Then he remembers they can. There's a moment of panic when he realizes his sponsors and potential sponsors saw that moment of softness. They saw him show compassion towards who is supposed to be his enemy.

But he also realizes he most likely had many sponsors off the bat, considering his stature and the persona he was acting. And he's already got himself two kills. This one moment of friendliness surely can't hurt him too much.

He's laying down, just on the edge of sleep, when Rue speaks up.

"Thresh?"

A grunt is all he can make out through his grogginess.

"If you make it home, will you watch out for my mama and the babies for me?" Her voice is so quiet, and he doesn't remember ever hearing her so scared.

He sits up and pulls her into another hug, not caring what the cameras think. She's so frail and tiny, and again he curses the Games for allowing someone like her to be put in a place like this.

"Of course I will."

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><p>He sat awake, staring up at the sky, listening to her soft breathing. They switched about an hour ago. Now she's tucked under the tarp while he freezes to stay awake. He doesn't mind it so much; he prefers being the one awake. If something happened to her while he was asleep…<p>

The softest rustling of grass alerts him. He sits up to focus on it. Silence. He waits, but no noise follows. But he doesn't lie back again, he's alert, he knows he heard something.

Half an hour passes, and a rustling is heard again. This time, though, whoever it is has tripped on his rope. He grabs hold of his machete and jumps to his feet, crouching as he was when Rue found him. He keeps the same, expressionless look on his face as he steps towards his trap, not wanting whoever it is to get close to Rue.

He can see her red hair through the grass; she's on her feet again. He swings the machete through the grass and feels it make contacts. She gasps loudly, he doesn't know where he got her, but obviously he didn't get her well enough. She's turned and running away from him before he can finish her off.

Her tiny form moves so quickly through the grass. Had she run through the forest he would have been easily able to catch her. But he knows the thickness of the grass will slow him considerably and give her an advantage. So he turns back to find Rue.

She's where he left her, but holding one of his small knives and sitting up.

"What was that?" She whispers.

"The girl from five. She was tripped in my trap. She got away before I could get her though." In truth, he didn't want to kill her. He couldn't see the justice in killing those weaker than himself. That's why he felt worse about killing the crazed girl earlier than the Career. The Career could have taken him, the Career stood a chance.

But his sponsors could not know he was thinking that. They think of it as weakness. They won't sponsor someone like that. They have to believe he's a born killer; they have to believe he'll kill everyone. But they also have to like him; he can't act like a psychopath. No, he has to be smart, strong, brave, and have no conscience.

"Good. Should we move then? She might come back." Rue pointed out.

"In the morning. I'll keep look out until then it's only a few more hours." She didn't get enough sleep, and she needed her rest.

It was silent for a long time. But he knew she was still awake, her breathing hadn't evened like it did when she was asleep.

"You should sleep, you need your energy." He mumbled.

She didn't say anything for a long while, then. "You remember the day I lost your sister?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I was supposed to watch her. I thought I was going to get in so much trouble."

When Thresh was eleven, his parents asked him to keep an eye on his younger sister and Rue, who were seven and five at the time. Rue decided to play hide and seek. It was Rue's turn to count, and Thresh's sister hid in neighbour's wagon, under a pile of hay. Rue couldn't find her, and eventually she fell asleep. So when she called for her she didn't come out.

"I was almost crying when I came to tell you. I had looked everywhere." Rue commented, her voice humorous.

"We searched for hours. I refused to tell my parents. I thought they would blame me."

"Then Mrs. Adams, across the street, got home."

"Just as she passed the wagon, she popped up, screaming for you." Thresh suppressed a laugh.

"She screamed and jumped out of her socks!" Rue could still picture the look on poor Mrs. Adams face. She laughed quietly.

They both fell silent. Suddenly, the fact that both them would not be able to go back became painfully clear.

_I hope it's you who gets to go home._

He can't say it out loud; it would kill too many sponsors. So instead he starts to pack up their things.

"We should get moving." He can feel that the sun will be up soon, and they need to find a source of water.

"We should find resources first," she speaks his thoughts.

"Yeah. Food, water. Do you have a canteen in that little bag?" He motions to it as she puts it on.

"A water-skin. Socks. A slingshot."

"Is that it?"

"I grabbed what was closest and ran, it was all I could do." She shrugged.

"Good. It was how you survived. Here." He handed her one of his knives. "In case you need it."

She thanked him and took it gratefully. She's glad, of all the people, that she made an alliance with him.

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><p>Two nights had passed. They set up a reliable routine. They would gather foods during the day, fill up on water, and hike through the forest always keeping close to the grass. Then, at night they would set up camp in the security of the grass and take turns on watch.<p>

He had come to particularly enjoy his time with Rue, even having moments when he forgot - just for an instant - the predicament they were in. But when she would be gone searching for food too long, or disappeared from to ground to swing from the trees, he would panic. He couldn't help the gnawing fear that one of the others had gotten a hold of her. Too often he saw her dead in his mind, too often he dreamed it.

He wished he could shout his frustrations, tell the people of Panem how wrong this really is. He wished those in the Capitol weren't so blind, that they would realize how sick it all is. To watch a little girl die for their entertainment. To cheer for someone else to rip that precious life from her.

Then, one night, he had a dream. It changed his fears for her. It changed the course of the rest of his life.

In the dream, he killed her.

He woke spooked, breathing heavy. And she was there. He wished she weren't, but there she was. Her innocent little face, her tiny smile, those trusting eyes.

Yet all he could see was her face in the dream as his hands clasped around her neck. He could see himself squeeze the life out of her.

Looking at her now, he never wanted her to get hurt. But he wasn't so sure it was preventable. Suddenly, he was plagued with thoughts of what he would do should it come down to the two of them. It was not nearly time to have to think of that yet, but he did. Would he kill her, to save his own life? No. But he wasn't sure that would be his answer should it really come down to it.

He refused to speak to her for the rest of that night. The sound of her soft little voice was too much to bear. He hated himself for having that dream, he hated himself for questioning it if it were to come true.

Sunlight brought with it a heaviness. He would have to make a decision today, he knew. He couldn't be plagued with these questions that tore him up. He would have to answer them.

Would he ever be able to kill her? Or would he die so she could live?

Half a day passed and he still couldn't answer it, so he found an alternate solution. She may not be entirely safe with him, so she shouldn't be with him anymore.

"Thresh! We should find a place to make camp soon, hm?" Rue asked him, starting her way up a tree. She did routine checks often to see where they were and if she could see any other tributes.

"No." The seriousness of his own voice startled even him. But he knew if he were to do this he would have to do it in few words, it was just his way.

"No?" She crawled back down, sensing a change in him.

"I can't be your ally anymore." It's blunt and ruthless, but he's relived the words are out.

Her tiny mouth forms into a frown, and immediately she's on the defense. She shifts her balance to the balls of her feet so she can jump around and snatches the knife out of her belt, holding it towards him.

He expected this, hoped for it even, because it means shes smart and quick. But he hadn't quite been prepared for the look in her eyes. Betrayal. He knew he hurt her, and that look alone almost made him turn back on his decision, let her stay longer. But the longer she stayed the harder it would be for him to survive.

She comes to the realization that he has no intentions of killing her, at least, not in that moment. She doesn't lower the knife though. She relaxes her stance just a little, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, her look softens, and he swears in that moment she understands. She knows why he's doing this.

Then the defensive, hurt look is back, and he knows she's just a kid. She can't possibly understand that much. She thinks he simply doesn't want her anymore, realized she has little value in winning this.

"Fine. Good luck, Thresh." Her words are curt, but behind them there is some meaning, and he knows she really will be hoping for him. She will look for his picture in the sky, but hope it will not appear.

And he knows he will do the same.

"You too, Rue." It's all he can do to keep his voice strong.

Then she's gone. Swinging on the branches of trees through the forest until she's out of his sight.

He misses her company that night. He frets that at any moment a cannon will go off and she will be dead.

He's also convinced things are better this way, aren't they?

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So what do you think of chapter two? I knew I had to split them up and I figured if it were Thresh's idea it would give him more grieving after her ineviatble death. Did I make him think about it enough though? Like did it make sense to you readers that he would send her away. I wanted to keep their bond strong and mak sure it was obvious they care about one another but still make him tell her they can't be allies anymore. Please review and tell me if I did alright? Chapter thress will be up soon!**

**Thank you to marianasgirl for betaing my story into something presentable! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games._

Thresh Chapter Three

It wasn't better. Every time he heard that cannon go off, his insides twisted up. Every time, it was her who died. He forced himself to stare at the sky at night, to know. And so far, he had been wrong.

But it would be her soon, he knew.

She couldn't survive out there alone. He hated himself for ending her off, hated himself for being so selfish.

Yet he knew, if she were still with him, he would send her off again. He knew, no matter how much he wished it weren't true, he preferred this. The fear of her upcoming death was nothing compared to the fear that he would kill her himself.

He lay on his back in the grass, his eyes glued to the sky. The anthem began and ended too quickly. If only he could avoid this.

Two cannons were shot that day. The first was the boy from district one. Probably taken out by the Careers.

Thresh held his breath as the boy's picture disappeared. When the next picture came up, he wasn't holding his breath anymore, he simply couldn't breathe. His insides twisted up until he felt he was going to throw up.

There she was, staring down at him. Her face strong and determined. A warrior. A dead warrior. She was gone now. He had expected this. He knew she wouldn't survive these games. The moment he sent her out into the woods, she was as good as dead.

Now she really was dead. And it was his fault.

He turned over in the grass, wrapping his arms around his head for a little privacy. Then, as silently a he could, he wept.

* * *

><p>Clove had Fire Girl pinned to the ground. Thresh saw his moment, this perfect opportunity to grab his bag. They were occupied and wouldn't even notice him.<p>

He ran in, steering directly for the table. Then he heard Clove's words.

"We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue?"

The words echoed in his head.

_Going to kill you… Just like your pathetic little ally… Rue. Rue_. Rue!

His anger took over him, he couldn't hold himself back. One hand wrapped in her hair, the other grabbed around her forearm. She was so light, so easy to lift. Like a doll. He shook her violently then threw her to the ground.

Like putty under his strength, so easy to handle. She stares up at him terrified, and all he can see is Rue. Rue's eyes, fearful of her own death. Death brought to her by this girl. This girl who had moments ago threatened to cut up Fire Girl.

Is that how Rue died? Did Clove cut her to pieces? He didn't think it was possible, but his anger actually grew.

"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" He was shouting, unable to contain himself.

Clove tried to crawl away, but didn't stand and run. Either she was too afraid to or knew she wouldn't outrun him. He watched her scramble for words.

"You said her name! I heard you! You kill her?" Again the image of Rue, all cut up, appeared in his mind. This evil girl smiling down as she did her work. Slowly, painfully killing the poor little girl. "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

She tried to deny it, screaming out for Cato to help her. But Thresh didn't believe her, he couldn't. He grabbed a rock, the closest thing to him.

His mind saw grotesque images of Rue, all different stages of dismembered by Cloves knife. He smashed Clove's head in ruthlessly.

Then he wheeled around to twelve. The girl on fire. What part had she played in Rue's death? His anger nearly brought the rock down on her skull too. Then Cloves words played in his mind again.

_J__ust like we did your pathetic little ally._

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?" He demands.

She explains how she and Rue teamed up, were friends. He's still not entirely convinced. She could be making it up. He should just kill her now, one less tribute to go through later.

But then, tears spring to her eyes. Not tears of fear, either. She says, "I sang her to sleep."

"To sleep?" He's still gruff, but the tears change things. Maybe she is telling the truth. Maybe, for whatever reason, she did care about Rue.

"To death. I sang until she died."

His heart twists inside him. He commands himself not to cry with her. He can picture it, Rue, listening to this girl, Katniss, singing her to her death. This image in his mind, it isn't gross, Rue isn't dismembered. In this image, she's smiling.

And Thresh knows then, that Katniss isn't lying. Rue touched her, Rue meant something to her. For a second, he pictures teaming up with Katniss. They could be brought together by a love of Rue.

But he knows better. It was hard enough caring about one tribute; he can't go through it again.

Katniss, the girl on fire, still lay on the ground. Still crying. Still expecting her death.

"Just this one time, I let you go. For the little girl." It hurts too much to say her name out loud. "You and me, we're even now. No more owed. You understand?"

She nods, and he's grateful. He knows he's done the right thing. He knows when he wins, his district will be proud of him, if for nothing else, then for this. It's probably just about the only thing the people of his district can be proud of him for so far.

Cato's voice is heard, and he knows he's close. Thresh tells fire girl to run, then turns and does the same himself. Grabbing on his way, not only his own bag, but Cato's as well.

He's determined now, to win this. He has to go back and help Rue's family. Apologize to them, to his district. And what better way to lure Cato to his death than steal his bag?

Thresh runs into his grass, hearing the cannon shortly after. Cato will be after him soon, he knows. And he's glad because it means he'll be one step closer to victory.

He's going to win the games. He's going to win them for Rue.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Shorter chapter I know. Did you like it? Please review, tell me what you think! There's only going to be one more chapter, as you could probably predict. Any suggestions for the Cato-Thresh fight? Any expectations from it? Please review, I love hearing from you! I'll update again soon!**

**Thank you marianasgirl, my amazing beta!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Copyright: I do not own The Hunger Games_

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><p>Thresh's hands fervently opened his bag, digging to see what exactly was inside. He was surprised to find a metal-like fiber. Armor. A satisfied feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The others all needed something, something to survive. He didn't need anything, so they sent him a little help. He already had the strength and survival skills to win. But with this, he would be virtually indestructible.<p>

He sat it casually to the side, planning to check on what Cato needed before putting it on. He was more than shocked to find the pack stuffed with food. Though, he figured it made sense since Cato's district was not involved in agriculture like his. But to really be this in need?

He shrugged it off and dug into a piece of dried meat. His attention turned back to the armor. He picked up a piece. It would cover his entire upper body, right up to the neck. The fact that the game-makers had sent it to him can only mean one thing-they want him to win.

He didn't mind. In fact, he figured having the game-makers on his side would be a good thing. Even if they were heartless bastards. At the moment, they're willing to help him. He's not going to turn it down.

Just as he was about to pull the armor up over his head, he felt the cold blade press against his neck.

"You killed Clove."

Cato's voice was horse, and angry. His breathing was still rugged, and Thresh wondered how he hadn't heard him approaching.

"She killed Rue."

It was the first time he had spoken her name since she died. He had to struggle to not choke up. Keep a straight face, stay strong. There's an entire audience watching. Keep your dignity.

He heard Cato's footsteps as he moved around, not moving the blade from Thresh's neck. Finally, he was in front of him, looking him in the eye.

Thresh balled the armor-fabric up in his hand, the only visible sign he was nervous. He saw the fury in Cato's eyes, and under that the hurt. He understood. They were just two guys, forced into these games, who had just lost someone they cared about. Thresh knew that, but he also knew Cato didn't. Cato hadn't a clue. Cato still thought he was meant to be in these games, that they were somehow a good thing. And who can blame him? He had been raised for these games.

"You going to try to fight me, Eleven?" Cato taunted.

"As soon as I move you'll chop off my head." Thresh's tone was surprisingly calm, and he spoke as if he were talking to a friend, not someone about to kill him. "I'll fight when you move the blade and fight me back. Just you and me, man to man."

He saw Cato's face change, he saw him consider it. But only for a second. Then he did what was expected. His face contorted into an angry grimace and his arm flexed.

But Thresh was prepared. As soon as he saw the change in Cato's manner, he swung up his fist-still wrapped in the armor-and swatted the blade away.

Thresh dove away from Cato and jumped to his feet. One hand was still wrapped in the armor, the other grabbed frantically at the blade in his belt. He yanked it out and prepared for Cato to attack. The two stood facing each other, slightly crouched, waiting for the other to pounce. Like two animals circling each other, fearing the inevitable attack.

Cato took the first swing, jumping towards Thresh. Thresh blocked it with his armored hand and sliced at Cato's side, leaving an immediately noticeable gash.

"That all you got, Career?"

Cato changed then. Thresh saw it before his own eyes. He became, somehow, not a boy stuck in these games. Not someone who had just lost someone he loved. Cato was no longer someone he could relate to. In fact, it was almost as if he were no longer human.

Thresh couldn't understand it, he couldn't believe what he saw. But somehow, Cato's eyes, his stance, everything about him was different. It was like he had become some mutt the games created. A zombie, brainwashed by the Capitol to believe his purpose was to kill.

That was the moment Thresh knew, no matter how much stronger he was, he wouldn't win this fight.

Cato ran at Thresh, a disturbing scream rising from his lips. Thresh deflected Cato's blade with his own, but Cato threw an unexpected punch to Thresh's jaw. Thresh stumbled backwards and in that moment was vulnerable enough to be tackled to the ground. He wondered why Cato hadn't just stabbed him?

Cato's sword lay off to the side and he stomped Thresh's own machete out of his hand. Thresh wanted a fair fight so he got it. Cato's animosity was overwhelming, and Thresh could barely get his bearings through the punches to his face. Cato sat on top of him, his weight pinning him down.

But Thresh knew he was strong enough to get out of this. He gathered what control he still had and threw his fist up to Cato's gut. It was enough to cause a second of instability, but that was all Thresh needed.

In a moment it was Thresh who was on top and in control. Thresh who was winning. For a moment he thought he could win, he really believed he could survive this and get out of these games alive.

But then Cato plunged a dagger into Thresh's abdomen. The pain shot through his body. He curled into himself, pressing his hands into the spot he had been stabbed. Cato rolled Thresh off him and sat up onto his knees. The bloody knife glistened in his hand.

Thresh's eyes met Cato's one more time, hoping to find at least some humanity there. He hoped, in his last moments, he would be able to see someone he could at least relate to, someone forced to do this, just like him. But there wasn't any, only the cold animosity.

Then the dagger was in his neck.

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><p>What was this feeling? He couldn't describe it. It was... nothing. There was no happy or sad or lightness. Just nothing.<p>

The last thing he remembered was the arena. Cato's demonic eyes, almost glowing with the pleasure of the kill.

Was that memory scary? No... Still nothing.

He remembered Rue. Tiny little Rue. Dead. Was she experiencing this? This emptiness?

Was that memory sad? No... Nothing.

He was dead. He knew that much. At least, since he died, the game-makers didn't win. That's a plus. And maybe it's better this way. Had he lived he would have had to go back and face District 11. He would have to see Rue's family, her friends. And now maybe fire girl will win. She cared about Rue too. She was just another trying to survive. Yes, since he can't win now and Rue can't win, he hoped Fire Girl would.

Of course, death also meant he wouldn't see his own family again. Shouldn't he feel sad, or afraid?

He wasn't worried about not feeling anything. It was kind of nice. Like he was floating in nothingness. Like nothing could hurt him. Like he was at peace.

Maybe he should stop trying to think of things. Don't worry about the past. Don't worry about the future. Finally, he didn't have to worry about any of it.

It's all over now.

Just rest.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<strong>

**Yoooooooooooooooooooo. So guess who didn't realize they forgot to update the last chapter? Wow you all probably think I'm one of those asshole writers. Anyways, I have the chapter and it's up and I hope you're all still alive to read it. It was fun to write if I remember correctly, I hope you lot enjoyed it as well! Love and kisses to all my reviewers and favorites and followers of this story! Feel free to keep reviewing, no matter how long this story has been posted I always check for new reviews so if you have anything to say please share it. **


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